No, not the kind where I follow people home and murder their gold fish. Not even the kind where I flip people off, I'm not that rude. I have the kind of road rage that causes me to YELL, a lot. Below are the top reasons I yell and why I am justified in doing so. What, you didn't think I would go through the trouble of writing all of this just to be wrong did you?

Merging. This is a big one, HUGE. Not knowing how to merge not only causes a lot of traffic, but it also contributes to the busted ear drums of my passengers.

Merging is really very simple if you break it down. Imagine the road like a zipper and the cars as the prongs. They all fit together harmoniously because they TAKE TURNS. One, One. One, One. All the way up until the zipper is beautifully closed.

Enter the asshole that doesn't take turns and probably never has. He is what happens when you accidentally zip your shirt up in your jacket an…

If you are a regular reader (yes, all three of you) then you know that we have a garden. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly vegetable gardens grow. It seems like I check on the zucchini in the morning and they are barely big enough to pick and by nightfall they are HUGE. How does this happen?

First of all plants kind of freak me out anyway. I mean how does a seed know to grow into a plant that flowers and produces FOOD. FOOD THAT WE CAN EAT!

It really is insane if you think about it. Or maybe I'm just thinking a bit to much.

Anyway, Ryan was out back yesterday and all of a sudden I hear, "HOLY SHIT!" I of course think he is either talking to Abner, getting ready to yell at Abner or has just stepped in Abner's shit because pretty much any time one of us says holy shit Abner is the unholy shit we are refering to.

But I digress

I walk outside and Ryan is absolutely GLOWING, grinning from ear to ear, and holding a huge mutant zucchini. This thing was unre…

We finally got our new bed and let me tell you, it is amazing. I forgot what it felt like not to roll into a hole on my side of the bed or have to get out the rock climbing gear to roll over from said hole and kiss Ryan goodnight.

Other than the insane comfort level of our bed, one other unexpected surprise was the size of it. It is HUGE. I mean I knew we ordered a California King size bed but I never imagined the mattress would be this big. I could literally crawl in and sleep inside of it and I doubt Ryan would even notice me in there.

So, while we are sleeping soundly and comfortably, new problems are brewing. The bed is so high that instead of simply hopping up in the morning when she is allowed, Lilly walks around the bed for twenty minutes ticking her toenails on the hardwood floors until one of us screams, "WE ARE GOING TO PULL YOUR TOENAILS OUT BY THE FUCKING ROOT IF YOU DON'T STOP WALKING AROUND AND GET INTO BED."

While going through old pictures at my mom's house I came across this gem. While it isn't all that old, only about two years, it is HILLARIOUS. I have looked at this picture probably five times before and never noticed that both Ryan and I look like we are doing the Robot.

One of us is about to puke and yelling at the other to stop spinning. I'm not giving any names, but it wasn't me.

Last week Ryan and I went to a Swingin' Utters show in Santa Cruz and over the course of the evening it became more and more tediously evident that I AM OLD!

Now, I was not the oldest one in years, not by a long shot. But in terms of my soul, I was one hundred and seven; approximately.

My first cue was my watch. When we arrived it was already 9pm and the band wasn't set to play until 11:30. A quick math session later and I was like, "dude, we aren't going to get home until like 2am! I haven't been up until 2am in years! And did I really just say ALREADY 9pm? Someone bring me Centruim Silver with a scotch back"

Moving on.

I know some of you reading this have never been to a show so I am going to clarify a few things before I continue. Shows are HOT. They are CROWDED. People TOUCH and BUMP into you. People SPILL THEIR DRINKS ON YOU. People PUSH you, hard. It is LOUD. It SMELLS. And there is ALWAYS an asshole in the bunch that makes all above sta…

When our first wedding gift arrived it felt like Christmas morning. I opened the box which housed another box which was wrapped in lovely paper only to get to the gift which was lined with more paper and protective cardboard support. A moment later I sat with a beautiful 5x7 inch picture frame and a crumpled 5x7 FOOT pile of cardboard and paper. I then did what any lady would; I put all the cardboard outside for Ryan to collapse and put in our recycling can. The first couple times he did this with enthusiasm and a smile on is face, but after about a month of breaking down cardboard and systematically filling our small recycling can with equal amounts of wedding cardboard and daily recycling, he started to get a little touchy. I'd see him out there, straight edge razor in hand, curing the very maker of cardboard. Going on little tangents about how much rediculious packaging was needed for towels and how was he ever going to make this fit and what this ever going t…

Lilly loves to smile and really, who can blame her. She is fed, walked, cleaned up after, and sleeps 18+ hours a day.

Evey once in a while, when I find myself a little annoyed with all the dog hair on the furniture, nose marks on the windows, and the constant flow of bodily fluids on my carpet I look at Lilly smiling and think, "it is so worth it."

This week our friends from Santa Rosa came to visit for a few days and brought with them their adorable daughter, a lot of good laughs and...A PUPPY. Not just any puppy, a Boston Terrier puppy that was so cute I almost tried to keep him.

His name is Owen James and he immediately evoked a, "he's so tiny. Abner, he's so tiny, why aren't you tiny anymore. Abner, BE TINY." I imagine it is an experience similar to when your baby is about 6 months old and a friend has a baby and you go visit that baby and go holy shit, that baby is tiny. Was my baby ever that tiny?

YES, he was! And he never will be again and I want to cry about it. I want to hold him with one arm and squish his puppy wrinkles and smell his puppy breath and...